


there are places you can go to

by weatheredlaw



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemon Separation, Daemon Touching, F/M, Gen, Non Consensual Daemon Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: Everything is fine, in the end. Everything is always fine, peter figures, but it does not remove the treacherous feeling that he is always dangling from something or another.or: peter and his dæmon are working through some joint anxieties. sometimes there's a girl there, and sometimes a billionaire.





	there are places you can go to

**Author's Note:**

> i write a dæmon au for basically everything, so.

Peter isn't sure what he was expecting when he met Tony's dæmon the first time. Something...spectacular, maybe. Exotic? Nothing like...well. Nothing like Mags.

Nothing like this dingy looking tabby with dark fur under her eyes like bags, making her more human than feline.

He feels bad thinking that way, but Tony only shrugs when he finally admits it and says, “Wasn't expecting yours either.” They both look at the pale green snake resting her chin on the curve of Peter's neck. Peter touches two fingers to her snout out of habit, feels her tongue dart out to meet him, remind him that they are both valid, both carrying the heavy burden of having the right to exist.

“Why Ardent?” Tony asks.

“May says my parents liked creating self-fulfilling prophecies.”

Tony stares at him for a full minute after that, fork in hand, hovering over the awkward dinner they've spent the last three weeks trying to arrange, a sort of _thank you for not letting that weird bird man steal my stuff_ present. Peter's about to break the silence when Tony shrugs and says, “Checks out alright.”

They don't talk about dæmons much after that, though Peter gets the distinct impression that it's all sort of...sacred to Tony, in a way he doesn't discuss. Mags is really Margaret, taken from his grandmother, or so he says. Everyone thought she might settle like Howard's dæmon had. “She was a _leopard_ ,” Tony mutters, before saying quickly, “and she was perfect, don't get me wrong. I just never had that in me.”

“Is that what you think it is?” Peter had always wondered what other people thought of the way their own dæmon settled. Wasn't something he managed to talk about much.

“Honestly? No idea what it is. Ask Banner, sometime. Dust is more his thing.”

Peter gets another impression that the lie is one of omission, that Tony is far more interested in Dust than he'll admit.

But he stays quiet, and feels Ardent flick her tongue against the skin of his neck, just to remind him, he figures.

 

* * *

 

Ardent settled so _early._ Early enough to be looked at like a freak, to be looked at like something had gone _wrong_ inside him. A wrench in the gears that made Peter _go._ And on top of that, she was a _snake._ Peter never got it, never really understood, not then anyway. Something about a snake, though. Turns people off.

Ned was the first person to look at Ardent and not wince, like Peter had drawn the short stick on dæmon settlings. His was a mouse, perfectly placed in the front left pocket of his shirt, or settled on the brim of one of his hats. Like a constant scout, always watching.

“Harriet just settled last year,” he'd said proudly. Dæmon settlings were a big deal in Ned's house. The whole family would get together, celebrate the change, party into the night.

(when ardent had settled, may baked a cake and held peter tight and told him he'd be okay, he didn't need to worry, this was all gonna be _okay_ )

Now Peter looks at his dæmon and he's proud and he's pleased and he's blessed for all she is. Ardent is clever and quick and can make herself practically invisible, even in the suit. A green snake would give him away, in a city full of rough dogs and birds of prey.

So at dinner with Tony Stark, his cat dæmon watching them with very human eyes – Peter touches two fingers to the snout of his dæmon and is reminded of their right to _be._

And that's enough.

 

* * *

 

Michelle's dæmon is a grey cat that Peter mistakenly calls a tabby, after finally meeting Tony's. She looks up at him from behind her bangs, settles a hand on silver fur and says flatly, “He's a Chartreux.”

“Oh. Uh, cool. That's, like, a super rare kind of cat, right?” She nods. “Extra cool.”

“His name is Victor.”

“Cool once again, Ms. Jones.”

She raises a brow. “I told you,” she says. “Just call me MJ.”

“Right. No, yeah, I can. Do that, I mean. Call you MJ.”

She sighs. “Don't give yourself a migraine, Parker.”

“Try my best,” he says, glancing down at his phone. Tony's calling, which doesn't happen super often, and Michelle – MJ's – starting to stare. “Uh. Gotta--”

“Go, right?”

“Go. Yes. I do.” He grabs his bag and just...bolts.

 

* * *

 

(she's not supposed to be the one in the starbucks that's slowly and caustically burning to the ground, but she is and there's just this visceral reaction when he sees her, puts his hands on her shoulders, and he can't and doesn't _want_ to stop ardent from creeping out along the lining of the suit, her green head a dead giveaway as mj stares and stares and _stares_ – )

 

* * *

 

(and later, she kisses him, because she says you should kiss the superhero who pulls you out of a burning coffee shop at three in the afternoon on a sunday. she kisses him and the soft parts of peter's heels grow wings and he practically levitates)

 

* * *

 

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Did you know? Before?”

“I wondered.”

“Clever girl.”

“Clever boy, seducing me with _Jurassic Park_ lines.”

“Know your audience.”

 

* * *

 

Peter has recently acquired a brand new, living, breathing terror – he felt it first underneath concrete and rubble, and he feels it here, now, dangling from the edge of a crumbling apartment complex, holding a baby in one arm, his web in another. He feels her, so close to his chest, turning and turning, her heart beat mirroring his own.

 _I don't want to die_ , she says, and it's the first time either of them has ever said it to the other. _I love you, I don't want us to die._

“We won't die,” he says, to her and himself and the infant in his arms.

Peter braces himself.

Takes a leap of faith.

 

* * *

 

(everything is fine, in the end. everything is always fine, peter figures, but it does not remove the treacherous feeling that he is _always_ dangling from something or another.

tony tells him he will always be afraid to lose her. tells him there isn't much to do about it except keep her close, keep her safe, and trust their connection.

 _you could be like barton,_ he says. _or romanov._ )

 

* * *

 

Peter doesn't figure out what he means by that for a long while. It takes him almost a year to meet Hawkeye for real, and he's a good dude, a family dude who shows him art on his phone that his kid did of Spider-Man.

“Thinks you're pretty cool,” he says, sort of proud and warm.

(later, his dæmon flies so far away from him that peter cries out, sympathy pains ringing through him. it's not _right_ , it shouldn't _happen_ like that, no one should ever have to do whatever they did to be able to get so far from one another – )

“SHIELD stuff,” Barton says, looking at Peter's stricken expression later when he's managed to not be too sick to ask. “Don't...don't be afraid,” he adds, and he claps Peter's shoulder the way a dad might after explaining that baseball is actually a secret cult or something. Peter swallows thickly. “I still feel her,” he adds. “She's right here.” He taps his chest. “Always.”

 

* * *

 

(he goes home and holds may and her dæmon close because they did away with that _don't touch_ bullshit years ago, when it was just pete and her and ben and you can't live in a tiny apartment and not expect to touch a dæmon every so often)

(call it new york sensibility, call it taboo, call it a parker family tradition)

(peter remembers holding his mother's dæmon very clearly – a sweet, pale-brown hare called emerson and he wonders now, all the time, which of them died first – )

 

* * *

 

MJ's lips taste like Dr. Pepper chapstick and her dæmon is purring loudly at the end of Peter's bed and brushes his ankle with his tail and MJ –

Jolts.

“I'm--”

“Shit, sorry--”

“Did he--”

“It's okay, it's not--”

“Shit.” She moves, grabs the cat and tries to find her jacket. “I should go.”

“Why?” May's out of town for work for the weekend, and Peter's feeling...loose. Rebellious. He skipped patrol today so the two of them could watch _M.A.S.H._ and now she's freaking out because her dæmon's tail touched Peter for two half seconds and he's trying to stop her from going –

“We don't _do that_ ,” she says, and the words are so heavy falling between them that Peter thinks they might actually fall through to the ground floor.

“I...I know.”

“You can't...I can't--”

“I didn't ask you to.”

And she's trembling.

(quaking)

“I will never touch him, not unless you say it's okay.” MJ leans in, her cheek pillowed on Peter's shoulder. “Did someone--”

“It was a long time ago.”

“...I'm sorry.”

“Everyone's so different about it.”

“Yeah.” Peter strokes her cheek. “It's your choice to make,” he says. “Doesn't have to be now or ever.”

She nods. “Okay.”

Peter kisses her temple. “Okay,” he says.

 

* * *

 

(it wasn't anything like that, she insists. just her being thirteen and thinking she was way older than she was and she _said_ he could touch, she _said_ it was alright, but she regretted it right away, and it made her _sick_ right there and he didn't even say he was _sorry_ , she says, snarls, almost screams in the small space of his kitchen while they eat cherry garcia from the tub)

 

* * *

 

(and it's not now, and it might not be ever, but it's good to talk about it, so they do, they draw the line, and peter likes having something in his life with an actual boundary. it's good for him, he thinks)

 

* * *

 

And after a while, he isn't afraid.

(well. that's a lie, he's always afraid, because if he wasn't, then what's the point. that's what the mask might be for – to hide the fear, the quick flashes he knows he'd never be able to disguise)

But it gets better. Gets easier.

And he holds his dæmon close, and he takes a running leap –

and the world rushes to meet them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ weatheredlaw


End file.
